Your Only Lesson
by sick-atxxheart
Summary: - "Your mind teaches you lessons, and life has given you many opportunities. In fact, it has given you so many opportunities that you're left more scarred than you were when you started." A look in the mind of Dr. Gregory House.


You can't quite remember where you are, exactly, or how you had gotten there. It seems to all be a hazy blur, a forgotten dream that just lingers on the edge of your mind; but you don't care, not really. It was all kind of peaceful… everything is pure white, so white that it almost hurts your eyes. You find yourself not even wanting to remember who you are, or what you are doing in the white place…

No, it was easier just to linger in the past. What other option do you have?

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You had been four when your family had first moved. You had had to say goodbye to your first friend; leave behind your first pet; resign from your first school; and forget your first home. You had been scarred by it.

Even at such a young age, you had hated his father for making you do it. You had always looked up to him, hadn't you? You thought he was great in all ways possible; but maybe wasn't so much anymore, not when he was so demanding, so controlling. _Daddy _had made you leave the place you called home, and the only place you had ever felt love so far in your short life.

Leaving home had only taught you that change isn't always for the best.

.

School had never been much better. You were a quiet but brilliant child; that was what they told your mother, anyway, when she was upset about your lack of friends. You were strange, they said; different from the other children.

You never really minded, though, did you? No. Of course not.

You preferred to be left alone.

But the work in itself was easy for you to grasp. You remember flying through the math skills, and reading, and being interested in everything around you- everything you knew you couldn't, wouldn't have.

School had only taught you to never have expectations.

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You learned to hate your father, and after you had decided that fact you realized you always had. He had never been kind to you, had he? He was always hurting you…

You tried to forget. Your mother tried to help you forget. It never worked.

You still have the scars, but you hide them well. They aren't visible to anyone but you. But you know, you _know_ that the emotional scars, mental scars… they run deeper, and you can't hide those-

No matter how hard you want to, no matter how many masks you try and hide behind.

Your father had only taught you to fear.

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Becoming a doctor hadn't been your life's ambition, but you fell in love with it anyway. You quickly fell into the routine; your team became the family you didn't want, and you pushed them away… just like you had pushed away everyone else.

You are called a _brilliant diagnostician_, a _genius_, and a _life-saver_. You ignored all their comments, instead preferring to just heal the patient and pretend everything else didn't exist.

It was easier that way. That way, you wouldn't get hurt when something went wrong. That way, you wouldn't lose… again.

Being a doctor had only taught you not to care.

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You let a few people in, and you learned from being in a relationship and having a _friend_. It was a nice feeling, even- one you could get used to…

But you had too many demons, and you let them go. You let them go, because you didn't want them to get hurt. At least, that was the reason you told yourself.

But most of all, you were afraid of getting attached to someone else, someone other than your own self. You were afraid of losing again.

Letting people in had only taught you the pain of losing them again.

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An accident left you broken. You remember the fear so well, don't you? You remember laying in the hospital bed, wishing with all your heart that the _fear_ and the _pain_ would go away. They had told you that you would lose your leg, and you had told them no.

They hadn't listened to you.

Still, you had tried. How could you live without your leg? You had fought and fought and fought… and still lost.

Beginning a life of pain had only taught you that it could always be worse.

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You had never believed in religion. It seemed like a joke to you, a joke make up to lift people up and then crush them back down once again. How could something _higher _than everyone have all the power in the world? Were humans worth nothing?

You couldn't stand being worth nothing, and so you didn't believe.

Your mother cried a few times for you, when you told her what you had decided. After that, you didn't see her again. You didn't like her tears, and you didn't want her prayers.

Believing in nothing had only taught you that nothing was worth believing in.

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You like to pretend you're not addicted. It was your way of escaping- the pain, the truth, the reality. Whatever you were escaping, it worked; the Vicodin erased everything worth thinking about, and left behind only you.

You were scared of that place sometimes, that place where there was no pain and no heartache and no worry- because then you were only left with yourself, and you _hated_ yourself more than anything.

But you couldn't let go of the addiction, and you got even better at ignoring things. You ignored yourself, when you were stuck inside. You ignored the worried accusations of that word- _addiction_; and you ignored what your mind was telling you, that you had to _stop_, that this was too _much_, that you had gone too _far_.

Your addiction had only taught you to shut things out.

.

They tell you you're bitter, and you smile with pretend arrogance and agree with them. But inside, you are reeling. Of _course_ you're bitter! How could you not be? How can everything you have lived through, all the times you have been broken, leave you still whole?

But you've never told anyone of your past, so you let it slide. You keep pretending.

You hide behind cynicism, and humor, and a type of quiet confidence that keeps most people away from you. You bury yourself in your work, and you ignore, and you pretend, and you _hide_.

It's what you're good at, after all.

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**This is my first time writing House, and any and all feedback would be much appreciated. If I've messed up some facts about his life, please let me know. Thanks!**


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